


Four Plied

by lost_spook



Category: Poldark (TV 1975), Poldark - All Media Types
Genre: Book 07: The Angry Tide, Multi, OT4, Post-The Angry Tide, Yuletide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-04
Updated: 2016-05-04
Packaged: 2018-06-06 09:29:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6748333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lost_spook/pseuds/lost_spook
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's chiefly Caroline's doing, of course.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Four Plied

**Author's Note:**

  * For [paperclipbitch](https://archiveofourown.org/users/paperclipbitch/gifts).



> Two confessions/apologies: 
> 
> 1\. This is not a college vampire bakery AU, tragically. I would not want to get your hopes up.
> 
> 2\. This is set during or after _The Angry Tide_ (book 7), as it was immediately where my mind went on seeing your OT4 prompt. I hope, this being several months on from Yuletide, you might have reached it by now, but if not, I kept the references down to people talking about London, so it shouldn't be spoilery for you - but I _am_ sorry. (When/if you get to that book, I’m sure you will understand why I had to use that particular point in the series.)

When it happens, it’s chiefly Caroline’s doing, of course. She wants it, and Caroline has made a lifetime's habit out of getting what she wants. It’s not mere curiosity, though; it’s a need to follow through on everything that arose in London. She’s drawn on both by what might be termed caprice and a wish to protect those she loves. They have lost too much. Life is fragile and the tapestry threads that are their lives woven together might snap and break apart too easily. One should have more than one singular other to hold in one’s heart. And she also wants, being Caroline, to give everything she has while the chance is at hand.

 

She begins with Demelza and lures her in with much the same surety that her friend can pull in a fish on a line, telling her of some of the more scandalous gossip she heard in London, finishing with her hook: “And they even say, you know, that her lover might not be the Duke – but the Duchess!”

Demelza shakes her head. “That couldn’t be,” she says. “How could it?”

“Oh, but surely, Demelza,” says Caroline, and watches her. “You must know it is the way with some people.”

“I’ve heard so,” says Demelza cautiously, “but I don’t see _how_. They haven’t all the parts!”

Caroline laughs. “It only takes a _little_ imagination, my dear.” She directs her most mischievous look at Demelza. “I could show you.”

“Go on!”

Caroline’s smile grows, as she leans her head on her hand. “I warn you, I shall.”

Demelza hates not to know things; it’s perhaps an unfair trait to play on. She eyes Caroline with considerable curiosity. “I don’t think I should mind. But perhaps ‘tis wrong – and Ross mightn’t like it.”

“No, no,” says Caroline, moving across to put a hand to her arm. “Not wrong. How could it be when I love you dearer than anyone in the world save Dwight?”

“’Tisn’t the same,” Demelza says. “Is it?”

“I think with me it may be not so very different,” Caroline tells her, feeling the heat rise in her face. “As to Ross,” she adds, with the mischievous glint back in her eyes, “I mean you to tell him, of course, my dear. I wouldn’t have you keep this from him for the world.”

Demelza moves forward, towards Caroline. “Have you done this often?”

“No, never,” says Caroline. “If I’ve ever thought of it, I’ve also thought that I would have to love and trust the person a great deal. Such as I do you, Demelza.” She has almost no distance now to go when she leans in and kisses Demelza, brushing her fingers lightly across Demelza’s face. Her courage wavers a little as she pulls back, but Demelza is never anything but generous and whole-hearted, and responds with artless affection – with the great love that lies between them, thinks Caroline. All four of them.

 

Demelza reviews the experience afterwards, with characteristic seriousness, and tells Caroline that she liked it very well and that she is glad to understand, although she thinks ‘tis usually better with Ross.

“Oh,” says Caroline, with her hand to her chest, “you are a heartless, cruel wretch, Demelza.” And she lies back and laughs for a very long while; Demelza joining in, if still not entirely comprehending.

 

“I’m beginning to wonder if you are a witch,” says Ross, halting in the doorway, having caught Caroline at home alone a few days later. “What are you about?”

Caroline raises her eyebrows and bites down on her satisfied smile. “Ross, you know only too well that I am no witch – only a very fallible mortal woman.”

“What game is this, Caroline? You said in London that you would never do anything to hurt Dwight.”

She looks up and all the amusement has gone from her; she is in earnest, the pain she feels in her heart visible in her eyes. “This is for Dwight. You know how things have been. I am not enough for him, Ross. I can only do so much – but to be with Demelza cheers his heart – and you may fetch him back from the places I cannot go, as you did in France. I am afraid here,” she says, and puts her hand to her heart, “that one isn’t ever enough – and I think, I believe, I see the way ahead. Will you not help?”

“Help?”

“We should all four of us be together,” Caroline says, raising her chin, a challenge in her eyes – and Ross can never refuse a challenge. “I am set on it – if you will help.” She raises her head, and the memory of London lies between them. “You would want it too, would you not?”

 

She takes her opportunity when it comes. They dine together, and drink, and play at cards and she challenges them to play for favours, not pennies. Her luck is in tonight. It often is. 

Caroline puts down her winning hand and smiles and makes her outrageous request: “You know, I have never had an orgy. I think I should like one now.”

“Caroline!” says Dwight. He doesn’t notice how much less startled the other two are, or Ross is, at least.

Caroline laughs. “It may be as scientific as you wish, my love. I am sure you could draw us educational pictures enough after. You are surely not going to renege on a debt of honour?”

“I thought you needed far more people for an orgy,” says Demelza.

Ross raises an eyebrow at his wife. “And what do you know of orgies?”

“I hear wicked tales,” Demelza says, the spark of battle suddenly in her eyes as she faces him. “All sorts of tales. ‘Twould be very wrong in us, though, I’m sure . . . wouldn’t it?”

Caroline catches at Dwight’s hand. “I think,” she says, “that four is exactly the right number for me. Do you not all agree?”

It still isn’t serious; if it was serious they would have to stop now, but they let the joke continue until it can’t quite be turned away from, not when they are held already in the warmth of the fire, the lamplight, the wine and the company. Demelza laughs suddenly, falling back against Ross.

“I was only thinking,” she says, when he looks, “how cruel it is of us to do such a thing and not tell poor Sir Hugh when it is what he has always wanted!”

Ross kisses her through his own laughter. “We shouldn’t tell anyone. It is a disgraceful suggestion, Caroline.”

“There, you see – I _knew_ you would like it,” she says, with an insolent, merry smile back at him.

 

“Caroline,” says Dwight, in the morning. “Caroline . . .”

She leans forward on his chest, serious again. “You cannot lie there now and tell me you took no pleasure in it, or that you tried to stop us.”

“No, but –”

“It’s for you,” she says. “For _you_ , Dwight. For all of us, but especially for you, my love. You need us all. And I – I think, I believe, I am cut from a different cloth from you and Demelza, and even from Ross. I think this is what I have always wanted. Do you think me selfish?”

“A little fond of getting your own way, but, no. It is not I you must worry about, but what people will say –”

“People need never know,” Caroline tells him. “What we do, together, in our own place, that is ours and not theirs. They shan’t have any of it. They won’t even think it – not this. You know they won’t.”

Dwight says, “It’s warm in here still.” It sounds like a mere nothing, but it isn’t, Caroline knows. She moves aside and steals her fingers through his, threading them together. They both hurt too badly at times over the things they can’t make better, so if she can mend things a little this way, she is very glad to have brought it about. 

She understands what he’s telling her and smiles inwardly, still holding onto his hand: it’s been cold for so long and now it isn’t any more.


End file.
